


Gossamer

by Saphworks



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Anxiety, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Gay, Light Academia, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pining, Prince GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), no beta we die like men, very swag and cool, very very gay if I have anything to do with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saphworks/pseuds/Saphworks
Summary: I should’ve just fallen off that goddamn roof. Anything would be better than the poison in his eyes and at the bottom of his glass. Maybe we could’ve made our own constellations, but instead we were destined to fall.orGeorge is a prince and Dream is a mysterious rogue staying in the castle for an indefinite amount of time.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Eret & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	1. A Ruckus At Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Anxiety and hinted parental abuse

The soft morning sunlight peeked through George’s open window, the slight hints of daylight easily rousing him. His long eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling far above his head. He sighed and turned on to his side attempting, as always, to fall back asleep. However, it was no use as his mind was already swirling with prospects of what the day ahead might hold. He stretched his legs and swung them over the edge of his bed. He lengthened his spine as he leaned backwards and popped his back, wincing at the noise caused by his fitful sleep the night before.

The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon. The servants should be up by now, he thought. He walked over to his window, the quiet padding of his feet against his wooden floor disturbing the silence of dawn. He looked across the castle grounds and was proved correct in his notion that the servants were awake. They looked tiny from his room far up in the tallest wing, but he could still see them bustling about and beginning the day's tasks. 

George strode across his room, his muscles slowly waking up. He opened the doors of his wardrobe and pulled out a simple loose white v-neck and a pair of leather breeches. He slipped the clothes on and sat at the edge of his four-poster bed as he laced up his riding boots. It had become tradition for him to greet the servants each morning before he went for a quick ride through the countryside around the palace.

When he stepped out of his room he was met with an unexpected sight. Typically, the wing that housed his private rooms was the quietest in the palace, far from the bustle of court affairs in the halls below. Almost no one came up here besides George, spare a few maids on occasion. 

This morning however, the wing seemed louder than every other part of the castle. Even the halls themselves seemed surprised, windows and doorways looking larger than usual as if exclaiming or wide-eyed in shock. Servants scrambled from room to room, rushing to tidy up the entire wing. He watched as one young boy ran by holding two gigantic flower vases. One woman was climbing a ladder to reach the impossibly high ledges and pillars throughout the area, feather duster in hand. 

George was overwhelmed. He felt like his space was being invaded. He had grown so used to the privacy and peaceful silence that all of the noise and people around him was quickly beginning to overwhelm him. He felt his anxiety begin to swirl in the pit of his stomach as his heart beat quickly picked up speed, he felt dizzy.

Just as the panic in his mind was reaching a fever pitch and he felt himself slipping, George saw his saving grace. 

His close friend Alex rounded the corner, bewilderment clear on his face as well. He was one of the stable boys and he was used to seeing George every morning before his ride. He had probably come up to check on him as George always made a point to show up as early as possible.

George rushed towards Alex and grabbed him by the elbow roughly. Alex yelped in surprise, clearly not expecting the unusual aggressiveness from him.

He dragged him back into his room and slammed the door, leaning his back against it with a heavy sigh. He clutched the fabric of his shirt against his chest trying to calm his racing heart. Alex remained silent, his curiosity overtaking him, seeing as he had never been in George’s room before.

The two were quite familiar so he began to explore it, rummaging through his desk and wardrobe. He made little remarks as he went, most of them making fun of his room decor. 

Finally, George broke the silence, “What the fuck is all of that about,” he said, gesturing tiredly to the commotion outside of his door. He had no idea how he hadn’t heard it before he stepped outside.

“Hell if I know,” Alex replied calmly. “Woah, how many deer did you have to kill to make that ugly thing?” he asked, pointing towards the antler chandelier hanging above his bed.

“One,” George said, holding up a finger, “The antlers are fake. And two,” he held up another finger, “Why in the world would I ever create something so horrendous,” he said, clearly exasperated with Alex’s nonchalance about everything.

Alex turned to George, a wide smirk on his face. Although the two were close, they typically tended to be insensitive towards each other's emotions, neither of them really knew how to talk to each other unless they were cracking jokes. George liked their friendship this way though. He could always count on Alex to make fun of him when he was being an idiot and lift his mind from the dark crevasses it often enjoyed to traverse. 

“Okay, okay,” Alex relented, lifting his arms in defeat, “I’ll stop questioning the candelabra orgy of imminent death,” he said. George nearly chuckled at the sheer stupidity of his friend’s statement.

“Alright, alright tough crowd,” Alex mumbled.

Attempting to make himself look taller, Alex straightened his back and walked over to George with a snobbish look on his face. He gave a brief bow and held his elbow out to George. George could see the mischievous look glinting in Alex’s dark brown eyes and the barely held back laughter in his throat.

“Shall I escort the magnificent prince George down to the Great Hall so that his majesty may see what has caused the disruption to his ever so splendiferous privacy?” Alex asked, mimicking George’s posh accent as he turned his nose upwards in a snobbish gesture. 

George snorted. Is this really what royalty looks like to other people, he thought curiously.

Playing in to the bit, George linked his own arm through Alex’s elbow and exaggerated his accent, “Why yes my good sir, I think we shall.”

The two strode out into the hallway once more, this time their presence being noticed. It seemed every servant in the near vicinity stood up straighter and the entire wing quieted down, their instincts of being seen and not heard immediately kicking in. 

George couldn’t so much as get anyone to look him in the eyes as the servants stiffly went about their duties, all of the life and noise that had been vibrant in the hallway merely seconds before now completely gone. George sighed. No matter what he did, he wasn’t like them. His life was encumbered with expectations and appearances, the weight of it all over the years had been taking its toll on him.

Come to think of it, George couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good dream, let alone a proper sleep, in at least half a year. 

He’d first noticed his anxiety creeping in during his teen years. That was the time when he could no longer ignore the fear in the servants eyes when they looked at his young face or the fact that he still hadn’t been able to find a single friend his own age within the palace. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had started, he just remembered realizing one day that there seemed to be a constant whirring in his brain, looking for danger in every situation and seeing every new face as a threat. George couldn’t understand why being around people constantly made his skin crawl or why he always seemed to be darting his eyes around the room, searching for an escape to a place where he could be alone.

Before his father could notice this behavior, George requested that the old wing be renovated so he could live in a private set of bedchambers. He claimed that he merely wanted more space and privacy to fully throw himself into his studies. 8 years later, he’d read just about every book in the palace yet still decided to stay in his private suite, the silence had become so familiar to him he didn’t know how he’d be able to live without it.

George could tell that his living situation sometimes bothered his father as, in his opinion, George should be out courting and getting to know the nobility so that he would be prepared to handle the court once his time to reign came. And he certainly shouldn't be spending all of his time hiding away in a far room of the palace.

George held his head high as he pretended that the servants' distrust didn’t bother him as he strode forward, dragging Alex along with him.

“Weirdos,” Alex mumbled under his breath.

George smiled, that was one of the reasons he and Alex had become friends so quickly. Alex was different from most other people who worked in the palace. He didn’t put George on a pedestal or expect him to be some sort of prodigy. Alex treated George like he did anyone else, like he was just a normal person. With Alex, George felt like an equal. He didn’t have to have his defenses up or be the best version of himself. He could just be goofy, loud, endearing George.

George didn’t think there was anyone else in the world he felt more comfortable around.

When he was younger, George had thought his love for his friend had been romantic. The idea immediately sent him into a panic since he, once again, felt that something was wrong with him.

Alex being the only one in his life he was comfortable talking with, George told him about his feelings. Alex had calmed him down and told him it was alright. They kissed once, just to see how it felt. 

It was… awful in all honesty. They had remained friends afterwards, deciding not to speak on what had transpired (spare the occasional joke in their own private company) and their friendship returned to normal.

Even though Alex had said his feelings were valid and it was okay if he felt that way, George still couldn’t help but feel relieved when it turned out he had been wrong. 

He wasn’t allowed to partake in such things, especially not with men. He was glad he could cross that off his list and never think about it again. 

Yep kissed a guy one time and it sucked, nothing to see here! Just your average prince who is most definitely exclusively attracted to women without any possibility of anything else. Ever.

George and Alex weaved their way through the halls together, no longer arm and arm as they had quickly dropped the bit once they saw the utter commotion the entire palace was in.

The sun was just barely above the horizon and yet it seemed the entire world had decided to set an early alarm clock today. As it turned out, George’s wing wasn’t the only one receiving some heavy Spring cleaning. George hadn’t even known that there were this many people who were a part of the palace staff.

All around them, servants were frantically trying to make every square inch of the palace spotless. George watched as a large committee of people shouted at a man stood on a ladder as he meticulously readjusted a painting. He tilted it slightly to the left, trying to make it perfectly aligned, and half of the crowd exploded in outrage. This outburst caused the other half of the crowd who hadn’t been upset by the painting's movement to start shouting that the alignment was now perfect. The man on the ladder flicked his eyes nervously between the two sides and gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing in fear. He looked exhausted and terrified.

Seeing George had stopped to watch the commotion, Alex tugged George along to continue on their route to the Grand Hall.

The entire way there, George kept getting caught up in similar scenes between different groups of servants. Arguments seemed to be breaking out everywhere as no one could agree on what looked best.

Finally, George and Alex stepped into the Great Hall. Candles had been lit all around the outskirts of the large room, warmly illuminating the tapestries and artwork scattered all along the high walls. Natural light was slowly beginning to seep in through the tall windows far above their heads, although the sky visible through the circular skylight in the middle of the room still looked the deep blue of midnight. 

This seemed to be the center of the chaos as George’s father, the king, stood in the center of it all barking orders at just about anyone in his sight. George stared from the sidelines for a few more seconds, watching as long dining tables were brought in and a group of musicians set up their equipment.

George turned to Alex with a desperate look in his eyes, pleading for him to stay with him. Alex merely shook his head and patted George on the back. “Good luck,” he whispered, almost too quiet to be heard over all of the noise. With that, he walked away from George, turning around for a moment to give him two thumbs up, and disappearing into the crowd as he went to take care of his own responsibilities.

George shook himself. With one last deep breath, he tried to steel his nerves and clenched his hand in an attempt to get it to stop shaking.

Taking on an air of bravado, George strode through the crowd of people around his father. He tilted his chin upwards briefly thinking, Shit, as he remembered that was the exact gesture Alex had made fun of. It didn’t matter though, he needed to look like a prince. Regal, unbothered, pretentious, confident.

The effort was already beginning to become a strain.

The people parted around him, immediately clearing a path for him to his father. They bowed deeply as he walked past, respecting his title as Crown Prince. 

It was an immense effort for George not to roll his eyes.

It took a moment for his father to notice the silence that now blanketed the room. Once he did, his head shot up, eyes blazing to life at the opportunity to scold someone for not working themself to the bone. Instead, he was met with the cool gaze of his distant son.

The scowl melted off of his face, instead spreading into a welcoming smile. George, however, noticed that his eyes still held that same evil glint, ready to snap him up into his jaws at the slightest hint of weakness or a simple mishap.

This was what George had truly been preparing for on his long walk down here, the beast that was his father. Sadly, he would not find a single imperfection in his behavior today, as George was unwilling to crack under the pressure.

“What privilege have I been graced with today to be in my eldest son’s presence?” the king asked, slight hints of mocking in his voice. As always, George was the only one who noticed.

“I think I have the right to know why the castle is suddenly being cleaned as if we’re under attack by a wild horde of foul-smelling boars,” George stated calmly, a small grin on his face. 

To an onlooker, it appeared as if the two were simply having a polite conversation. But with each sarcastic smile and light-hearted tease, the two were locked in an intense battle. Eyes sharp as blades with wits even sharper. To anyone who knew the royal family well, the sight was utterly terrifying.

The king hummed disapprovingly at this remark, brows slightly furrowing as he frowned. George’s heart sunk, he thought he had been prepared for this battle. 

“I’m certain I informed you of today’s occasion,” he said, an undertone of smugness now clear enough in his voice for the servants to notice. The crowd that gathered around them was filled with harsh whispers and scathing glances as they debated with one another what they were to do in this situation.

George hummed lightly in return, “I’m most certain you didn’t father, you know I have an impeccable memory.” In all honesty, he did. He could remember every offhand remark his father had ever made regarding George, although this adept memory never seemed to present itself in situations where it was absolutely necessary. History had always been his worst subject in school, dates and names flying around in his head meaninglessly.

The king sighed, “Fine then, I suppose I’ll just have to tell you again,” he said, feigning exasperation, “The coalition government of La Survie is visiting us. They’ll be staying here for a while as we sort out trade agreements and treaties and such,” he waved his hand dismissively.

The king then stared straight into George’s eyes, his own flashing with the strike of a final blow. “Not that any of that would make sense to you, being that you haven’t kept up with any court affairs. Seriously George, I expect more from you,” he said, maliciously.

His father smirked, victory evident on his face. He laughed, loud and cruel. At a loss for what to do, the servants laughed along. 

George had lost.

He whipped around and stormed out of the hall, blinking rapidly to dispel the tears he could feel coming, evident with the harsh pricks he felt behind his eyes. He vaguely heard his father order the servants back to work, his mind already miles away as he raced back to his room.

The trip seemed much quicker this time, as he didn’t intentionally slow it down out of fear and trepidation. This time all he felt was defeat, cold and heavy as it rested at the pit of his stomach. He had promised himself he would do better this time.

George yanked his door open, slamming it behind him as he disappeared into the safe confines of his room. More than a few startled yelps could be heard in the hallway outside at the prince’s harsh behavior, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He flopped down onto his bed, deciding he wasn’t up for a ride anymore.

George could feel himself drifting off to sleep, napping having been one of his coping mechanisms for as long as he could remember.

As he felt slumber gently pulling him deeper and deeper, he realized something.

His wing was the only one in the palace with any extra sleeping quarters. The realization hit him hard, not enough to keep him from drifting. Although, if he had been more awake he probably would have wailed and screamed until his throat was raw.

The guests would be staying up here, with him.

He fell into a dreamless sleep, his mind offering him comfort for once as he basked in the peaceful silence, unknowing that that would be the last silence he heard for a long while.


	2. A Ruckus At Noon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol symbolism go brrrr

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took so long to get out, in the future I'd like to publish two chapters a week but I do have a really busy schedule so no promises. This chapter ended up being much longer than I thought it would be. Happy Valentine's Day, hope you enjoy!

George woke with a confused grumble at the deafening banging against his door. He quickly glanced out the window, seeing that the sun had risen to its peak in the sky, signaling that it was now close to noon. He then turned his attention towards the incessant knocking that had awoken him. With a small grunt, he heaved himself out of bed to open the door.

He slowly opened the door, tired eyes full of disdain for whoever had decided to disturb his very peaceful sleep. (Especially since it had been his first in quite a while.) Surprisingly, he was met with eyes just as annoyed as his own. And they appeared to be at least four inches higher than his.

“I think this is my room,” the tall boy wrinkled his nose in distaste as he looked down at George.

At this George nearly laughed aloud, instead, he simply crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe leisurely. This kid was in for a treat.

“I can assure you that it’s not,” George stated matter of factly. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the blonde boy asked loudly. George winced slightly. If this was who he thought it was, this was going to be much more difficult than he had anticipated. Despite his discomfort, George couldn’t help himself in taking the perfect opening.

“The Crown Prince,” he smiled wildly as the boy seemed to choke on air, “and you would be…?”. 

The boy grinned sheepishly as he lifted his hand to rub at his neck, “Sorry about that then I guess, I’m Thomas but everyone calls me Tommy,” he answered. He barked out a harsh laugh, seemingly at his own ignorance, “You wouldn’t happen to know where my actual room would be would you?” he asked politely.

George huffed as he opened his mouth to tell him he had no idea where his stupid room was when, suddenly, it seemed the rest of the boy’s party had arrived as they walked down the long entrance hall of the East Wing. He probably shouldn't have chosen the first room he saw in all honesty, at the time he hadn’t been that picky, purely needing some sort of an escape. Hence the lack of attention to room decor. However, he wanted so badly to slink back into his room for some semblance of protection at the sight of the horde of guests marching his way. 

It was no wonder that his father had deemed it necessary to send the entire visiting party to stay up in George’s suite, there were so fucking many of them. 

Another young boy among the visitors, this one a few inches shorter than George, caught sight of Tommy. At first, he smiled, but once his eyes quickly flicked over to George, he yelped in panic and started walking faster, nearly running to reach Tommy and George. 

He was breathless once he reached them, hands on his knees as he gulped in quick gasps of air.

“I’m- so sorry- about- him,” he huffed out. Once he caught his breath, he hurriedly bowed to George before turning to Tommy, eyes sharp with disapproval.

“Do you ever listen?” he asked exasperatedly. Tommy rolled his eyes at this.

“I’ve told you Tubbo, I don’t need to listen,” he said, “It’s not like there are gonna be any consequences, right? I’m a prince.” George tilted his head in confusion. That literally made no sense. He was a prince as well and not listening had gotten him into trouble on more occasions than he could count. It was one of the first things he had learned, always pay attention.

The smaller boy, Tubbo apparently, looked like he was about to strangle Tommy. Instead, he turned to George and smiled cheerfully. 

“Excuse him would you? He’s a bit of a prick,” Tubbo said, smiling innocently despite the words that had just left his mouth. George quirked an eyebrow at the two, as Tommy scoffed indignantly. 

“You’re always so mean to me Tubbo,” he whined petulantly. George was full of questions, but before he could ask them, the rest of the visiting party caught up to them. Quickly taking a head count, George guessed there were about twenty people including Tommy and Tubbo. Apparently this wing was much larger than he had originally thought, as none of them made any indication that they would be staying elsewhere. 

“Are you Prince George?” an older man at the front of the crowd asked kindly. George simply nodded, feeling self-conscious as there was now a much larger group of people here.

“Thank you so much for having us,” he said, “I’m sorry if these two have caused you any trouble. I’d like to say that it won’t happen again but unfortunately they can be a bit of a handful.” He rolled his eyes fondly as Tommy made to argue with him but was quickly shushed by Tubbo. This time George did chuckle slightly, trying to appear comfortable and quell his own nerves.

“I’m King Phil,” the man introduced, reaching out a hand to shake George’s own. George took it and attempted to smile politely, although he guessed it came out as more of a grimace as a flash of concern sparked in the king’s eyes. 

His expression was puzzled for a moment before he seemed to notice the way George had stayed in his doorframe the entire time, never making a move to step out and greet them properly. 

Phil cleared his throat loudly before turning to the rest of his company, “Alright then let’s all get settled in before the feast tonight and leave this poor man alone,” he said before turning back to George and smiling warmly at him, “I hope we can properly acquaint ourselves then.” With that, he led the rest of the visitors further into the wing to go find where they would all be staying. However, he did have to drag Tommy along by the ear as he complained loudly about how boring he was being. 

Alright, I guess that wasn’t completely horrible, George thought as he returned to his room, shutting the door softly.

He began to pace in front of his bed, the action helping him to think properly without becoming overwhelmed by his thoughts. Who am I kidding that was awful, he groaned audibly as he ran his hands through his hair, they probably think I’m rude and strange. I could barely even speak. 

He stopped his pacing for a moment as he remembered a crucial detail the king, Phil, had mentioned. There was going to be a welcoming feast tonight. And he was expected to attend.

George flopped onto his bed as he stared up at the ceiling. 

Has father really made it his goal to make me as uncomfortable as possible while they’re visiting? Because if so he sure is doing a fantastic job.

George wracked his brain, trying to think of something, anything, that would make this night more bearable. He was way too fidgety and he knew he couldn’t take another nap even if he wanted to, his body wouldn’t let him. 

What if I ease myself into it, he mused from his place among the sheets, I can spend the rest of the day with Alex so maybe I’ll feel better before its time for the dinner party.

He smiled to himself, maybe tonight didn’t have to be so bad after all.

***

That had turned out to be a horrible idea on George’s part, as Alex was extremely excited about having guests in the palace. He would apparently “finally have new people to make fun of”, and since he was so excited about this event, he had told everyone he knew. Rumors about the new arrivals spread through the castle like wildfire, and somehow everyone knew that they would be staying with George, the mysterious and outcast prince.

Now George couldn’t go anywhere without being accosted by servants or nobles or really anyone in the palace, without being asked about what the guests were like, as he had been the only one besides the king to speak with any of them. After nearly an hour of politely declining to speak about the visitors or making up an excuse to get away from the curious askers, George finally arrived at the stables, a journey that would typically take him at most fifteen minutes. 

Most of the time, Alex could be found tending to the horses, whether that be feeding them or taking them for a small ride just to stretch their legs. However, today he appeared to be nowhere in sight, despite the weather being perfect for a ride as the autumn chill had not yet set in. Hesitantly, George began to look through each of the horse stalls, finding nothing but as to be expected, horses. He briefly stopped at his mare, Ivy’s, stall. He ran his hand through her mane and mumbled a brief apology for not taking her for her usual ride this morning. She simply leaned into his hand and nuzzled it affectionately, hoping to receive a treat.

George chuckled and moved on to look through the rest of the stalls. Yet and still, his friend Alex seemed to be nowhere in sight. As he reached the last stall, George heard a loud giggle coming from the larger indoor stable where they moved the horses at night and during the winter, a giggle that happened to have a very specific owner. He pinched the bridge of his nose, quickly trying to rub the exhaustion out of his eyes even though he had slept for around four hours earlier this morning.

George listened to the grass softly crunch under his feet as he reached the stable, not bothering to knock and swinging the door open.

He was immediately met with a drunken cheer from Alex, who lay on the floor amidst the hay staring up at him. Atop a hay bale across from Alex sat the owner of the distinct giggle, Karl, a gleeful smile on his face in greeting to the prince. George had always been close with Alex, and by nature he was then acquainted with Alex’s long time friend, Karl. He wasn’t nearly as comfortable around him, but on a good day he might dare to call Karl his friend as well. He was another one of the staff on the palace grounds, the only son of the old groundskeepers that owned a flower shop in town. He always smelled like lavender, which certainly was a plus for George as it helped to calm his anxiety. 

George groaned frustratedly at the two and nearly turned around to leave since he didn’t feel like dealing with a wasted Alex at this time of day. Alas, any chance of escape was taken from him as he sat up from his place on the floor and turned to George with his legs crossed, patting a spot next to him for George to sit. 

He obliged silently, taking a moment to stare at the floor he was sitting on and question all of his life decisions. If there was one thing George was known for, it was his cleanliness. And the floor of a horse stable was most definitely not up to his standards.

George turned to Alex, who now leaned his back against the hay bale Karl was sitting on, sitting in between his legs, and asked, “Why are the two of you day drunk?”. He didn’t bother to mention the position the two were in as they had always been comfortable enough to express physical affection around one another, he was even about fifty percent sure it was entirely platonic. 

“We’re celebrating~” Alex muttered happily, “For once we got invited to the fancy royal dinner party,” he fanned his face with his hand, a gesture common among noblewomen. 

Can he go five seconds without making fun of someone?

To be fair, it was a rarity that Alex was able to mock someone without immediately being mocked in return. A general go-to insult was to call him short, being that he was slightly sensitive about his height. He wasn’t even short by any means, it just so happened that a large number of people in the palace were freakishly tall, George not included as one of them.

Karl tapped Alex harshly on the head idly, Alex reaching to slap his leg in return. “Pretty much everyone is invited, the poor kitchen staff got the short end of the stick,” Karl sighed, “They have to make all that food and they don’t even get to eat any of it.”

This was when George finally happened to take notice of another person in the room, someone he had never met before. As he noticed, he jumped slightly and unconsciously edged closer to Alex, who was still sitting close next to him. 

Alex picked up on his edgy behavior, brows furrowing for a moment before shooting up in realization. “Oh right, George this is Ranboo,” Alex said, gesturing vaguely to the boy who sat in the hayloft above them, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. 

George wasn’t entirely certain as neither of them were standing up, but this strange boy looked to be incredibly tall. He had light fluffy brown hair that reached just above his shoulders, and startling green eyes that never seemed to fully make eye contact with him. 

Ranboo smiled nervously, appearing to be a bit anxious himself, “I’m one of those poor kitchen staff,” he said. 

“Aren’t you a bit young for hard alcohol?” George asked. He looked at the bottle of whiskey in his hand, apparently having forgotten he was holding it.

“Oh no, these two said they would sneak me out of kitchen duty for the afternoon if I got them some liquor. The only reason I have it is because I had to take it away from them,” he said, rolling his eyes at George’s friends and their deep love of being intoxicated. He seemed very likable, from the looks of it, Alex and Karl weren’t even friends with him. And yet he already felt like this new addition would have a permanent place among them.

George spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out with the other three, well, it was more like he was babysitting while trying to get Alex and Karl sober before dinner. The king wasn’t fond of day drinkers, especially not among the staff. Ranboo simply watched their interactions most of the time, occasionally joining in with a joke of his own but primarily keeping to himself. George could’ve sworn he caught him writing in a small book from time to time, which made no sense since most of the servants were illiterate.

Finally, the time of reckoning came. With Alex and Karl now just being slightly tipsy, still affected by the alcohol but not enough to not be able to fake sobriety. They went off to do… something, George hadn’t been paying much attention. He thought it was something about minimally contributing to the preparations so that they wouldn’t get scolded. Ranboo had returned to the kitchens as he was still one of the waitstaff for the event, leaving George to return to his room to get ready for the party.

Unlike earlier, he went undisturbed on his way back, allowing him to appreciate the artwork on the walls as he usually did. The pieces were constantly changing since the king was quite picky and got bored easily. He had managed to save one painting, however. When his father had wanted to get rid of it as he usually did, George had begged him to keep it in the palace. He had gotten what he wanted, but not without a price.

George looked at this painting now, it hung, surprisingly, outside on a balcony just before the entrance to the East Wing. Most of the time the art remained indoors since the weather was often unpredictable and needed protection from the elements, but since George had wanted to keep a piece that was meant to be taken away, his father demanded it be outside so that he didn’t have to look at it. Over the years, he had gone to extreme measures to keep it safe.

It depicted a lone woman sitting atop the moon. She had a sleek black bob, but her face was far from harsh. She looked kind and warm, and the thing George liked most of all about the painting, she looked content. A small crescent halo sat atop her head and she wore a flowy blue dress that looked like it was billowing in the wind. She was by herself, and yet she looked like the happiest woman in the world. 

Having become lost in his thoughts as he admired the painting, George didn’t feel a presence come up next to him. A voice next to his ear whispered, “What do you like about it?”.

George jerked to the side, quickly turning to see who had startled him. He was filled with a deep confusion once he noticed it was a remarkably tall man, face obscured by a porcelain white mask with a crude child’s drawing of a smile on it. He wore a hooded cloak, brown leather gloves with matching shoes and belt, and thick black winter trousers. There wasn’t a single feature George could discern due to the choices in clothing, besides the fact that he was tall and bulky beneath his thick garments. 

The stranger tapped his foot impatiently, “I asked what you like about this painting,” he said.

What the fuck. 

George cleared his throat, taking on an air of formality despite wanting nothing more than to yell at the man for scaring him and demanding he take off the silly outfit. “And who would you be?” he asked instead.

The man laughed at this, deep and slightly hoarse, “Nuh uh I asked first,” he said, undertones of teasing all too evident in his voice. 

There was no way he’d be sharing his emotions with anyone, especially not a stranger, with no alcohol in his body. He scoffed, somehow managing to look down on the man despite being around half a foot shorter than him. He strode away, continuing on his way to his room to get ready for a party he didn’t even want to go to. As he passed the man, he heard him mumble, “I suppose it’s fair I don’t get a name if I don’t give mine.” That admission didn’t stop the immense sadness that permeated his tone, baffling since there was no reason for the statement to make him that sad.

He wanted to hesitate, so much, for a reason he couldn’t quite place, but he didn’t let himself. Leaving the man to enjoy the sunset and his favorite painting all by himself. 

***

George sat uncomfortably at one of the head tables. With the way the great Hall had been arranged, two long tables sat on a raised dais, one for the royal family and another for the guests of La Survie. There were countless similar tables laid out below them, filled with the palace staff, nobility, and people from nearby towns. George had had no idea they even had the capacity to host this many people.

He felt exposed, eyes piercing through his fragile veil of joy. His father stood from the head of their table, making his way to the front of the dais to address the people below.

George’s older sister, Amelia, leaned over to him and whispered, “5 pounds that he calls them lowly at least once.” George had to hold in a snort, they had been playing games like this since they were little, placing bets on how much of a douchebag their father was going to be that night. They were only a year apart, Amelia being the eldest daughter and George being the eldest son. Sometimes he felt like she should’ve been a boy, she would make a much better king.

George had six younger siblings, the youngest being only seven years old. Surprisingly, all eight of them came from one mother, the former queen. She had passed away around two years ago, and his father became even worse. He had always been a cruel man, but now the man was downright vile.

He shook himself out of his head and turned to his younger sibling closest in age to him, Eret. He had originally been named Alistair but had decided around the time she turned fifteen that he’d rather go by that name. None of his siblings asked any questions, but their father still referred to him by their old name. “Amelia thinks he’ll call them lowly but my money’s on quaint,” George whispered to them. Eret chuckled a bit too loudly, George quickly shushing him before noticing that fortunately, their father hadn’t seemed to notice.

“Ladies and gentlemen may I have your attention this evening,” the king called, his booming voice quickly silencing any chatter in the hall, “First off, I’d like to welcome the king and royal family of La Survie to our wonderful kingdom, I hope you enjoy your stay with us,” he bowed to their table, King Phil raising his glass in acknowledgement as the rest of the hall filled with applause. 

“And thank all of you for coming out to visit with us tonight,” he said, turning back to the rest of the common people at their tables, “I know life can be depressing when you’re as lowly as the lot of you, but this evening we’d like to welcome you into the beautiful palace halls and let you enjoy a break from your quaint homes.” 

Amelia punched George in the leg under the table and held out her hand for her money once she heard her word. George sighed and reached to grab her money from his blue suit jacket, but quickly stopped once he heard his own. He grinned and turned to Eret whose face fell. He looked like he wanted to argue, but instead simply handed over the ten pounds to George, George passing half of them over to Amelia. 

“While the main purpose of this evening’s festivities is to welcome the diplomatic party, I also have an announcement to make,” the king continued, “In two weeks time, we will be hosting our biannual Tourney of Roses,” a few gasps could be heard throughout the room. The king held up his hands to silence them, “Yes, yes, I know. This is a bit early, seeing as we hold it during the Spring and Summer most years, however this year we will be introducing a few new events to the roster to account for the winter weather. I thought that the people of La Survie ought to be able to enjoy some form of entertainment while they were staying with us. Enjoy your evening everyone! The dinner staff will be out with the main courses soon, but for the meantime, feel free to enjoy the hors d'oeuvres.”

With that his speech was finished, and another round of applause filled the hall as the king returned to his seat at the head of the royal family’s table. 

The playful banter between George and his siblings abruptly halted, all of them knowing the consequences of stepping out of line. And so they ate in silence, practically bristling with fear. Their father had been drinking all night, face now taking on a warm flush. “I think I’m going to join the crowd,” he blubbered, giggling before standing up and disappearing into the crowd before anyone could even attempt to stop him. 

The table took on a completely different atmosphere, now bright with joy as his siblings conversed all around him, arguing and trying to steal each other’s food. George watched on as his sister May expertly took food from Arabella’s plate all night, the two being sixteen and twelve respectively. Each time he watched as Arabella became more and more puzzled on where her meal was going. 

George even let himself indulge in champagne, something you could rarely catch the eldest brother drinking. He was a bit of a lightweight though and about three glasses in, the air seemed warm and fuzzy, voices silky and muffled as if his ears had been filled with cotton. He stood up once dessert was finished, excusing himself from the table.

In his drunken state, he decided he wanted to look at the stars and went out onto one of the many balconies that connected to the Great Hall. Any hopes he had for peace and quiet were quickly ruined though, as he found his father. Not alone might he add, he was kissing one of his mother’s former ladies in waiting, a woman George had been worried about for as long as he could remember. 

George growled, anger clouding his mind as he forcefully ripped them apart, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” he hissed. 

He was met with similar aggression from his father, “No, what do you think you’re doing, boy,” he spat. He crowded George up against the railing, lower back pressed up against the cool stone. His mind was a mess, he couldn’t think of anything to say or what to do. He couldn’t push him away or respond, alcohol and fear swirling in his mind to leave him immobile.

His father let out a harsh humorless laugh, breath reeking with the stench of alcohol. “You always were useless, can’t even stand up for yourself against your old man huh?” he scoffed, “You’re worthless, George. You always have been and always will be.” He shoved George, not lightly, but not enough to throw him off balance if not for the fact that he was also intoxicated.

He felt himself slip, tumbling off of the balcony with a quick shout.

He quickly grabbed onto the bottom of the railing, years of training finally helping him with quick reflexes. He gripped tight as he heard the woman his father had brought out here gasp and rush forward to help him. She was stopped by George’s father, an evil glint in his eye as he watched his son struggle. 

He didn’t even say anything as he returned to the party inside.

George felt tears prick his eyes, partially from the cold and partially from the realization that his father didn’t even care if he lived or died. He was tempted to let himself fall but he held on, his willpower and adrenaline the only thing holding him up at this point. 

He closed his eyes and literally held on for life, feeling his grip begin to slip.

Just as he felt he couldn’t hold on anymore, he was greeted by a familiarly deep, teasing voice.

“Need a hand?” 

George opened his eyes and looked up, and there stood the masked stranger from earlier this evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again sorry for taking so long and sorry for any typos, I only proofread like half of this since I had a burst of creativity and wrote most of this today and I wanted to get it out within a week. Thank you so much for reading, I used to write on Wattpad and even the minimal response I've gotten on this story literally makes my day so much. 
> 
> I actually used all the pronouns for Eret since I go by all pronouns myself and I personally want people to use all of them for me. I'm still so excited about this story.
> 
> AS USUAL: PLEASE STAY HYDRATED!!!!! I WILL KNOW IF YOU AREN'T AND I WILL FIND YOU!!!!!! SO DRINK SOME WATER OR START RUNNING!!!!!!!!!


	3. A Midnight Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to not pressure myself into an upload schedule, so they'll probably be a bit consistent. they definitely won't be as far apart as this one though, I was struggling with power the week before last and then ended up getting a piercing infection so it was hard for me to write. Hope you enjoy!

The cool night breeze whipped through George’s clothes, sending a small chill up his spine. He stared up at the masked man, said mask obscuring any semblance of emotion shown on his features. It was extremely disorienting, he could say anything, _do_ anything, and all he would be met with was that crude smiley face. It was especially off-putting in a situation such as this one, George barely hanging onto the balcony nearly a hundred feet above the ground as a brash, albeit thoroughly interesting, stranger offered his hand.

With a last surge of strength and adrenaline, George hoisted himself up just enough to grasp tightly onto the outstretched palm. The man pulled him back up over the railing and onto the balcony. George brushed his hands across the front of his pants, trying to seem nonchalant despite the situation that he had just been in.

“Do I get a name now that I’ve saved your life?” the masked man asked cheekily, choosing not to acknowledge why exactly the favor had been necessary. 

Pushing down his pride, George offered his hand, “The name’s George.”

The man hesitated for a second, before accepting his outstretched hand and shaking it with a firm grip, George now noticing that his gloves from earlier appeared to be gone. “To be honest, I still expected you to be stubborn and not tell me,” he chuckled, “You seem the type to hold a grudge.” He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his pants and casually leaned against the railing George had been hanging from seconds earlier.

George tilted his head, “Well, what’s your name?” he asked.

“Oh come on now, if I had to save your life to get something as simple as a name, surely you should do something in return for mine?” the man teased, taking his hands out of his pockets and crossing his arms. 

George huffed, he was definitely _grateful_ , but he didn’t have the patience for this. He’d acted the same way earlier, not letting George get away with a single thing and challenging him at every step. It was unbelievably irritating.

He didn’t respond and wobbled slightly on his feet, still very much tipsy from all of the champagne he had had earlier, even though the shock of literally being shoved off a balcony had certainly helped in sobering him up. He looked back into the Grand Hall behind them, the air bright with music and laughter. He wanted to go back in, relax with his siblings and enjoy the evening, but he knew he couldn’t. George had never been a very good actor and there was no way he’d be able to brush off what had just happened like he could the dirt on his clothes.

“I know!” the man behind him exclaimed excitedly, startling George out of his wandering thoughts. “You can give me a tour of the palace,” he said, a smile clear in his voice despite the mask covering his face.

George stared back at him unamused. “Come on,” the man whined, “I’ll tell you why I’m here if you do.”

Come to think of it, George hadn’t even stopped to wonder _why_ he was here. He’d never seen anyone who looked remotely similar to the stranger around here, and he didn’t seem to be with anyone from La Survie, seeing as George had only ever ran into him in inconspicuous locations. Besides, even if he found him mildly intolerable, he had certainly piqued his interest.

“Alright,” George sighed, “let’s go then.”

George abruptly turned around to walk back inside, missing the surprised cough that spluttered out of the man’s mouth. He made to walk back into the Grand Hall, but stopped as he realized he couldn’t exactly walk back in with a strange man on his tail. 

Before he could come up with a way to sneak back into the palace without being seen, the man came up next to George and linked their arms together, quickly dragging George past his hesitance and back into the vibrant atmosphere of the dinner party.

He strode through the hall, struggling to keep up with the taller man’s much quicker pace, at this rate he was practically being dragged along. They caught a few eyes, whispers arising around those who noticed, but for once they didn’t seem to bother George. What did bother George, however, was the look on his father’s face. It wasn’t hostile nor was it relieved, there wasn’t a trace of emotion in his eyes as he regarded George. 

He ripped his gaze away from the king, trying for the life of him to preserve what little amount of nonchalance he had left. 

They reached the entrance to the Grand Hall and the man unlinked their arms in order to push open the heavy doors that led to the rest of the castle. He grabbed George by the wrist and dragged him outside, slamming the door behind them and no doubt alerting everyone in the hall to their exit. 

The masked man turned to George, “Alright, where should we start?” he asked.

George thought for a moment, grateful for the distraction from his mind which had already begun to spiral and twist down dark paths. What he really wanted was to show the man the castle grounds outside, the sprawling greenery and abundance of smaller wildlife, but he assumed he had already seen a large portion of it. Besides, it was still incredibly breathtaking at night, but it was really best during the day.

After a few moments, he decided on the first place he would take the stranger. 

Without a word, he walked away from the man, not acknowledging his presence even though it was implied he should be following. Outside of the Grand Hall was a large foyer that was used mostly for show, but could also be used to hold an overflow of guests or as an adjacent ballroom to the dinner hall. This is where the pair had exited, and George now led him down the closest adjacent corridor to the left, one of the lesser travelled routes within the palace.

The man fell into step beside him, easily keeping up with George’s unusually quick pace with his freakishly long legs. Neither of them attempted to make small talk, falling into a comfortable silence. George focused his eyes on the hall in front of him, struggling to remember how to get to one of his favorite places within the castle from where they were; he tended to stay away from the area around the ballrooms and dining hall altogether, seeing as they were quite busy at nearly every time of day.

In contrast, the man next to him seemed to be full of childlike wonder as he observed the delicate and simple beauties that the palace had, George long since becoming numb to them. He watched out of his peripheral vision as the masked man’s face shifted in different directions, switching from observing the tiles of the floor to the intricate arched ceilings to different potted plants they passed. 

It was dizzying for George to even look at, his attention seeming to catch on every little thing, shifting easily by the second. It made him wonder about the stranger's life as they navigated the twisting halls.

After a few minutes, the pair reached George’s chosen destination to start the tour: the royal library. Most of the people in the neighboring towns chose to use their local libraries, but some ventured out to see the grandiosity of the one within the palace. They even hosted a few select scholars during the summer since the selection of books here was the largest for many many miles.

The brass double doors were inlaid with an intricate design of a sleeping dragon on each side, the way the dragon curled up in its sleep making them look like a heart when the doors were closed. 

George pushed the doors open with a grunt of effort, and heard the man next to him gasp lightly.

The library was composed of three levels. The majority of space on the bottom floor was used for multiple rows of large worktables, the library being a popular place for students to congregate and work in their off time. Even though most people could be found at the dinner party this evening, the oil lamps at each of the tables had still been lit, creating a soft glow that spread from each and dimly illuminated the area around it. Around the outskirts of the main level were small clusters of seating areas, plush armchairs surrounded by short rows of bookshelves.

The upper levels were where most of the books were kept. Tall bookshelves lined each wall, ladders connecting the levels to each other. The ladders that were used to go between each floor were stationary, however there were also rolling ladders scattered around here and there to help people reach the books on the higher shelves.

It was a simple layout, in the most extravagant way possible.

The stranger finally turned to him, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many books in one place,” he said wistfully.

“There are centuries of writings here,” he explained, “We typically keep the older ones all the way on the third floor since less people go up there and they won’t get damaged as much. It’s usually busier… than…” George trailed off as the masked man turned away from him and bounded over to one of the ladders that led to a higher floor.

“What are you doing?” he asked indignantly, scrambling to follow him.

The man in question simply grabbed the highest rung of the ladder he could reach and leaned back so he was facing George where he hung, “I wanna read the old books you mentioned,” he said before beginning to climb.

George huffed in frustration, upset he didn’t get to finish what he was saying about the library, but followed the man up nonetheless. 

As he climbed, his muscles began to ache, already exhausted from holding himself up earlier that evening. 

The pair reached the third floor, the stranger immediately running to peruse the shelves, while George took a minute to stretch and let his sore muscles rest. 

“Hey!” the man called out, now hanging from a different ladder with a weathered old book in one hand. He jumped off and landed firmly on his feet, the unexpected agility surprising George. He casually strode back over to where George stood, who had not moved from where he stood at the landing.

“What’s this one about?” he asked, handing the book to George. He carefully wiped his hand across the cover, dust leisurely flying off and making the other man sneeze. Even with the grime cleared off, the title was still illegible. Something about the book seemed familiar to him, the weight comfortable in his hands. He flipped the book over and looked at the back cover, a familiar scribble present on the bottom left hand corner. It was too dim in the library to read it, the oil lanterns on the bottom floor the only source of light since the room relied heavily on natural light during the day. He leaned over the railing that lined the balcony on each floor so that he could get a better look, shock filling his bones once he realized what book he was holding.

“Oh…” George trailed off. 

God, I thought this book was thrown out ages ago.

He looked up at the man who now stood beside him, porcelain mask reflecting the soft light downstairs, and still not betraying whatever expression the man held underneath. “Where did you find this?” he asked hesitantly, still slightly put-off by the strange attire of the foreigner. 

“It was just over there,” he said, vaguely pointing to the shelf he had been standing by before. Ignoring him, George pushed past him to look through the shelves. They looked exactly like every other shelf in the library, completely and entirely ordinary.

“Why? Is that book really important or something?” the man asked from behind him. George continued to look through the shelf, pulling books out wildly to see if there was anything that could’ve given away what it held. Baffled, he pivoted so that he was once again facing the stranger.

Attempting to hide how unsettled he was, he smiled unsteadily and said, “Quite the opposite actually. It’s nothing special really, it was one of my favorites when I was younger. I had no idea it was still even here,” he chuckled nervously.

The man joined him where he stood, “Well, it must be good then,” he said, reaching to pluck the book from George’s hands, George, however, quickly pulling it away from him. 

The man seemed startled, his hand now awkwardly outstretched in midair. George cleared his throat and smiled tightly, “I think we’re done here, don’t you? Let’s continue the rest of this ‘tour’,” he clipped, walking past the man to go down the ladder, book still clutched tight against his chest.

The pair left the library, the brass doors closing heavily behind them, a palpable tension now present between the two for reasons neither was certain of. Gradually, the tension faded as George led him through the rest of the castle. Most of the rooms in the palace didn’t hold as much value to George, of course he appreciated them, but the library had always been a place he held close to his heart. He honestly wasn’t sure why he had wanted to show that off to the stranger first. 

He took on a more lighthearted and joking manner with the man now, relaxing into a gentle ease of conversation with him as they traversed the empty halls.

Somehow, they had circled back around to one of the more central areas of the castle, closer to the hall they had started in. 

“What’s in there?” the stranger asked, nodding towards a set of massive white doors that had ornate and intricate designs carved all over them.

“That’s one of the older ballrooms, it’s not much in use anymore,” he said absentmindedly, not looking at the stranger as his focus was fixed on the figure of what appeared to be a small cat roaming the halls. There were plenty of animals in the palace, many of the servants and even the nobility choosing to have pets, but George had never seen this one before; it was quite small and striped grey and white. It sat down and stared at George curiously with soft amber eyes as it swished its tail across the floor, tilting its head at him.

Suddenly, George heard the large doors next to him being pushed open, a heavy creaking echoing throughout the hall. He snapped his head around staring at the man in shock as he leaned against the door casually. 

“Care for a dance?” he asked teasingly, offering George his hand. George scoffed and made no attempt to move any closer to him. The stranger shrugged and waltzed into the hall. George had noticed that he had a certain air about him, it was as if he assumed everywhere he went belonged to him. Even if this was supposed to be some sort of tour, the stranger looked completely at home in halls that were supposedly unfamiliar to him

George envied his confidence.

He hesitated for a moment longer before finally following the man into the old ballroom. He wasn’t sure he’d ever even been in this one, it was a bit smaller than the others. However, despite its age, the floors were still polished and pristine, chestnut wood shining in the moonlight that poured through the large wall of windows at the back.

He stood in confusion for a second, not seeing the man who had come in just seconds before him, when a soft melody filled the room. He turned to see that there was a large piano tucked into the corner of the room on the same wall as the doors. And at this piano, sat the masked man, fingers flying delicately across the keys, not missing a single note even with his vision being somewhat obstructed.

George quickly got lost in the song, the gentle tune soothing his nerves as he swayed slightly where he stood, closing his eyes to fully enjoy the way the notes reverberated off of the smooth floor and tall walls. It almost sounded like he was playing a lullaby.

He hadn’t realized exactly how tired he was until this moment, the stranger’s company clearing any lingerings of exhaustion from his mind with their light banter and warm laughs. But now he felt the heaviness of sleep seeping into his bones, as the man whose company he had slowly grown to enjoy played one of the most beautiful songs he had ever heard.

The music swelled, and he could’ve sworn it sounded like liquid sleep, embracing him as soft as silk. The notes tapered off, now returning to the light notes he had heard earlier and all too soon, the piece was over.

He turned to the man in awe, as his fingers hovered over the keys slightly. He was practically glowing in the moonlight, and George couldn’t help but find him beautiful, even with no clue what his face looked like. He sat there, basking for a moment in the glow of the night and the ringing of the final notes throughout the hall.

After what felt like an eternity, he looked over to George, standing up almost sheepishly and moving to stand by his side.

He seemed like he was about to say something, but before he could even try George spoke up, “You’re full of surprises aren’t you?” he breathed.

The man next to him let out a low rumble of a laugh, the sound stirring a feeling in George’s heart that he quickly pushed away, almost unconsciously. 

“Just something I picked up a few years ago, I’m actually more surprised that I could still remember it,” he said, a smile evident in his voice. Despite his interest in talking with the man more, George slowly becoming more fond of him as the night grew darker, he couldn’t help but suppress his yawn.

“I think that means it might be time to turn in for the night, yeah?” the man said, voice soft. George frowned, a forgotten promise tickling the back of his mind. He was too tired to care enough to try and remember it though.

“Yeah okay,” he responded, slightly out of it as he now swayed slightly where he stood, not because of the music this time, but because he was almost too tired to stand. “Where do you sleep?” George asked bluntly, filter having become much less strong with his exhaustion. The man guided him out of the ballroom and paused at the doors to answer.

“Same place you do,” he stated, the answer failing to explain anything. George hummed in acknowledgment, not bothering to push further for a more in depth answer. In the back of his mind, he wondered why the stranger knew exactly where he was going, leading George directly back to his room with almost no wrong turns.

His brow furrowed in confusion, but instead of asking about his strange directional sense, for some reason he asked, “What about the name you promised?”. He sounded almost petulant as he questioned the man, like a child upset he didn’t get any candy. The man chuckled lightly as the two now stood in front of the door to George’s room. 

He brushed his arm across George’s shoulder, “Dream,” he said gently, voice so soft George wasn’t even sure he’d heard it.

The man, Dream, lifted his mask slightly, just enough to reveal barely tanned skin and soft lips. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to George’s forehead, “Get some rest,” he whispered against the top of his hair.

And then all of a sudden he was gone, George opening his eyes just in time to see his silhouette disappear down the hall, going further into the guest suites. 

In the morning he would wake up alone, completely forgetting the warmth of Dream’s lips against his forehead, the moment lost to his drowsiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only half of what I originally had planned for this chapter but I like the chapter length I have right now so I decided to just cut it in half. I also got twitter! Follow me @saphworks for more consistent updates on when the next chapter will be posted. On a side note... how has everyone been doing with the SMP lore that's going on right now because personally I am in shambles. I think I might make some more one shots or short stories that are more lore based, I also have multiple AUs and stories planned for the future so stay on the look out for that (dreamnotnap content hehe). I almost forgot to put this but if you wondered what song Dream was playing it was No. 5 The Day I Met Her by Esther Abrami. It’s very pretty and I like it very much
> 
> THAT'S ALL I HAVE TO SAY FOR TODAY!!! HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER!!!! STAY HYDRATED!!! I WILL KNOW IF YOU DONT DRINK WATER AND I WILL FIND YOU!!!!!!!


End file.
